Tainting Thomas
by theentityshooker
Summary: Upon nearing her 666th escape, Meg Thomas begins to unravel the sinister secrets of the Entity's Realm. What she discovers will ultimately change everything she ever knew about the prison she and her friends have found themselves trapped in and rekindle the lust the killers have for her flesh.
1. Chapter 1: Six-Hundred-and-Sixty-Six

**!PLEASE READ THIS!**

This story was started before Freddy's proposed changes and before the introduction of the Archives. The story will progress as it has been written thus far and will be adjusted accordingly to the published lore changes in the game.

Each chapter has a main storyline as well as a NSFW snippet associated with the chapter. The main chapters have all been rated Mature for their sexual implications and the violence associated with the material while the NSFW chapters have been labeled as Explicit due to their sexual content and inappropriate subjects. The characters portrayed in this fanfic are as accurate to their personalities as possible, therefore, there will be many questionable topics covered throughout the story. Consider this your warning going forward for the entirety of the piece.

I do not condone the actions taken by the characters of this fanfiction and would never consider acting on such impulses. This fanfiction is merely a safe place to explore the multiple, realistic facets of human nature when placed in such a scenario as the Entity's Realm.

Please rate and review if you would like to see more content from me and, if you're feeling generous or would like something specifically written, I have a that you may donate to. Donations are appreciated, but not required. 

* * *

_Breathe in, breathe out._

That was Meg Thomas' mantra every night for three years and tonight was no exception. It was how she kept her exhaustion in check – or, at least at bay – during her trials.

Terror was no stranger to her as she dipped behind a generator to begin working on it, nimble fingers reaching into the mouth of the metal monster, hoping there wasn't a hex on these ones.

"Yowch," she hissed as the sparks erupted around her, singeing her hands as she continued to work. There was _definitely_ a hex on the damn thing. She'd have to be extra precise if she wanted to escape for the night – seeing as tonight was Poker Night, Meg wanted to make it out alive. The alternative was… too unpleasant to consider.

_Focus,_ she reprimanded herself. They were so close. _Only two more generators,_ she encouraged herself as she worked. A generator off in the distance finished. A scream of pain followed, and she knew it was Feng Min eating dirt. Meg rolled her eyes, wondering if Feng wasn't doing it on purpose to try to skip out on Poker Night. Poor Dwight had already been taken out, so it was only Jane, Feng, and her left.

She had to commit to the generator. Jane would have to be the one to go in and save Feng. She had brought a flashlight, so it was their best play. Hopefully she could blind their killer with it. Buy the team more time. The generator was just over halfway done, but unless Jane could get the killer to drop Feng, Meg knew there wouldn't be enough time for her to finish it before her teammate was sacrificed to the Entity.

Even as she thought it, she heard Feng Min's final cries of pain before insectoid branches carved into her flesh. A cloud thundered above Feng's final resting place, summoning her body to the Otherside.

Meg shuddered at the thought.

Another cry of pain, this time from Jane.

Seventy-five percent completed, the generator was chugging along now. If only their newest teammate could loop the killer for just a little while longer, Meg could just– Jane screamed out in terror as she was pulled straight out of a locker.

A locker that Meg could see from where she squatted by the generator, realigning gears and wires. Terror seized her again as she took in the monster chasing them tonight: he was the flashier one of the group, of the Legion… his name was Joey, or Joe. Meg hated going against any of the Legion, but especially Joe. He was the cruelest of the four, and the most terrifying, if she had to be honest. Frank, their leader, was nothing but a joke to her with his goofy, crude, smiling mask, but Joe? Meg was careful around Joe.

It took no time for him to hook Jane. The inexperienced survivor had essentially given Joe a free sacrifice. The sky crackled menacingly as it took her up next, up to the Otherside. Jane was _also_ going to be missing Poker Night, it seemed.

Joe disappeared from sight and Meg removed her hands from the generator she was working on just as she heard the hatch get slammed closed from somewhere nearby. Her heart rate was through the roof as she stood there, weighing her options for survival. The new rules the Entity provided them with recently had changed the way they all did things to escape. She would have to be careful and stealthy if she wanted to escape this trial now.

A familiar red light flashed around the corner of the wall nearest her, throwing her plans right out the window.

"Are you lost, sweetheart?"

As she heard him call out to her, shivers crawled up and down her spine. It was nothing more than a cocky warning, but the threat in his voice set her senses alight. She bolted, hoping her short respite on the generator had given her just enough juice for one last run against the Legion.

He was on her trail like a hound, Meg could hear his panting feet away from her. She would need to get a pallet between them if she expected to escape. Like switching gears in a sports car, Meg hightailed it towards an area she knew had them in abundance. Joe trailed behind her, his breathing getting louder and louder.

The first area she visited had remnants of a pallet scattered over the ground. The splinters were freshly pressed into the mud from being stepped over a few times. Meg pushed on.

The breathing was closer now, very close.

The next area, only shards of a pallet greeted her.

He was right behind her now, she was certain of it. She could hear him growl out in agony as his special ability wore off right as she cycled to the third place she knew would have them. Surely _this _pallet still-

Her heart sank.

No. Pallet.

"Looking for something?"

There was barely any time to react before Joe was on top of her. He threw his entire weight down, pinning her against the wall where the pallet once leaned. Meg felt the air whoosh from her lungs as her back collided with brick.

Joe was petrifying tonight, choosing to wear his skull mask to terrorize them with. Dark eyes drank in her terror through the holes in his mask. There was a smirk hidden underneath the white paint, tormenting her, taunting her – of this she had no doubt about it.

"We're sorry to have to tell you this," his curved blade pressed itself into her cheek, the metal cold until it ran hot with her blood, "but your teammates left nothing for you to use. Most of the pallets in this area have been wasted."

"Figures," Meg muttered, leaning her head back against the wall, "no one on my team really wanted to go to Poker Night tonight anyway,"

She waited for Joe to whisk her off to the nearest hook. Blood trickled down from the fresh cut on her cheek as her legs trembled from exhaustion. Her back ached from where he had deeply wounded her with his knife. She wanted the pain of the evening's trial to end. To sacrifice her weakened body and start over.

"Poker Night?" Legion snickered under his mask. There was something about the way he cocked his head at her that made Meg uneasy. It wasn't even that she was afraid of him, oh no. Meg was beyond that at this point. After one-thousand-ninety-five days, the monsters scared her less now than ever before. She found them irritating, mainly. Obstacles between her and her way out. Out from whatever realm that _thing_… the Entity, kept them prisoner in.

No, this look was something else. Something more sinister.

Meg pushed out her hands in anticipation of what was to come.

Joe leaned in anyway. He pressed himself on her and she gasped for air at the force, her hands burying themselves into his jacket. The thick material of the hoodie was barely grabbable anyway, her hands desperately trying to push away a being with far more strength and power than she could even imagine.

He stared at her with cold eyes as she gasped for air, "We could kill you now, you know," – the words weren't mean. They were soft. Painfully so – "but… we're in a good mood today, especially after such a _thrilling_ performance from you." Joe tilted his head once more in the way only he ever did, stroking her bloody face with the flat of his blade, "Besides, we hear you're almost at your six-hundred-and-sixty-sixth escape. Congratulations, Meg Thomas. Others won't be as inclined to be… merciful."

Meg wanted to gag. A killer? Being merciful? And of all of them, _Joe_?

… Was today backwards day?

There was a snicker at her reaction, Legion reveling in the disgust and contempt she had for him and the others. His eyes glowed with glee as he ran a gloved finger over her wounded cheek… almost…

_No, _her mind recoiled at the suggestion that Joe was showing her signs of… her head spun at the concept of a killer showing her any form of… of _tenderness_.

Then as quickly as it had begun, the Legion stepped back, "Goodbye, Meg Thomas. Make sure to catch up on your reading, eh?" He winked before shoving away from her, dashing away into the fog and leaving her to find a gate to escape out from.

Meg felt her legs give out as she collapsed into the wall behind her, the stressful sweat of the evening making her clothing cling to her skin. Gasping for air did little to comfort her as the words of Legion swam through her mind.

Only those few words echoed in Meg's mind: _Six-hundred-and-sixty-six_.


	2. Chapter 1 NSFW Excerpt

**This is an explicit excerpt from the previous chapter! ****Do NOT read if you are under the age of sexual consent!**

**The Tainting Thomas fanfiction does not require this NSFW excerpt to progress the main storyline and these chapters are only provided for an additional dimension to the story as a whole.**

**You have been warned!**

* * *

_No, _her mind recoiled at the suggestion that Joe was showing her signs of… her head spun at the concept of a killer showing her any form of… of _tenderness_.

She needed to get out of there, to run away, but the killer before her placed his hands on either side of Meg, blocking off her escape. The knife in his right hand reflected the light of a nearby fire barrel and blinded her where she stood, "We want to give you a present. To celebrate the occasion."

Her heart raced as Legion said this, trying to process what he meant. A present? From the Legion? Meg's dread at what that could mean only grew as Joe's free hand went straight down between Meg's thighs.

The survivor deflected his hand away with a hearty slap, "W-what are you doing?" The confusion of the situation's turn was far too overwhelming and Meg pressed herself further into the wall.

Joe smirked, "_Rewarding_ you."

He tried again, this time adjusting his knife-wielding hand to be under her throat as he did. Maybe she would be more accepting of his 'gift' now? To his relief, it worked the way he hoped it would: she froze under the knife, eying him with that defiant gaze of hers as his other hand went in for the second attempt.

Meg was a pretty girl. Tall, with strawberry-blonde hair that looked even more beautiful soaked with blood. Usually she wore workout clothes comfortable enough to jog and vault in. Tonight, however, she had opted to wear a dark button-up shirt and a white tennis skirt, and Joe would have been lying if he said he hadn't been enjoying the view while chasing her during their trial that evening. The way the plaits had swished back and forth across her ass… oh, it had been hard to break chase with her and go for another one of the survivors.

But the Legion had done it.

He had made sure the others were gone first so that he could have Meg _all _to himself. He wanted this badly, and the Entity be damned if he wasn't going to get her before she was changed. He craved to know what she felt like, what she _tasted_ like… before she was tainted.

Before she became a monster like them.

The white skirt had been covered with blood spatters and indistinct handprints over the duration of the trial, but Legion added more to the carnage as he pressed his hand against the front of it. The blood of her teammates smeared over the material as his fingers adventured further along, seeking his treasure. He would let her whimpers guide his hand. The sounds she made started small, choked back, until he found what he was searching for. Against her will, Meg Thomas let out a sensual mewl. A long, pleasant sound that was more delicious to Joe's ears than a hooked survivor's scream. It was the sound of a strong will bending under his hand, and Joe relished it, drank it in.

"N-no, I," Meg Thomas had to steady herself as he lovingly stroked her clit with his forefinger, "this… this isn't right,"

Legion laughed reciting words once spoken to him, "In the Entity's realm, nothing is right." He gave her button a loving tap, "Now, shut up and enjoy the gift we are giving you. Otherwise we'll be forced to gag you and, well, we like the naughty sounds that you make."

To prove his point, he gave her clit a nice, little pinch through the material of her outfit.

Meg sucked in a sharp breath, trying to deny him his pleasure. _Let her try_, he chuckled to himself as he felt the dampness of her womanhood starting to seep through the fabric of her skirt.

He withdrew only to come back to her shirt. With both hands, he ripped it open, sending buttons plinking against him and the wall that the gasping survivor leaned against. Underneath, she wore a gray tank top which clung to her sweaty skin. The sudden scent of her fear wafted into the air, intoxicating Legion with its sweetness. His hunger grew.

Meg, on the other hand, was losing her mind. She had heard rumors through the Campfire that some survivors had been sexually violated by the very monsters that hunted them, but Meg had always thought them to be just phony rumors. Or just fucked up fantasies that the other survivors were telling each other to get a reaction. But now, as Legion looked over her with his chestnut colored eyes, casting her in that sickening red stain all the killers had, Meg was starting to suspect the rumors were actually true.

The knife returned to her throat as Joe's other hand resumed its work, going for one of Meg's breasts. She bit her lip as she felt his cool gloved hand through the thin tank top material. Eager for the attention, her nipple immediately perked.

"Your body is betraying you," he snickered as he ran a thumb over the hardened flesh.

Meg hissed, "I don't want this."

"No? Not even a little?" Legion leaned in suddenly, pressing his manhood hard into her leg. Even through the thick denim of his cargo pants, Meg wouldn't have been able to ignore Joe's size. It somehow both terrified and excited her. A flush of heat washed over her and she cursed her human libido for making this situation even more confusing than it needed to be. Meg blushed as she turned her head away from Joe, ashamed that the situation she found herself was quickly spiraling out of her control.

He seemed to take pleasure in her reactions, his tucked away member twitching earnestly against her. The Legion pressed the cold metal of his knife into Meg's chin, "Oh my, this isn't your first time, is it, Meg?"

"Fuck you," she whispered, shaking with emotions.

No, it wasn't her first time. Thoughts floated back to that moment, before the Entity had stolen her from her home. A boy named Eric. He had been one of the star basketball players at her high school and, yes, Meg had had the biggest crush on him. He'd gotten a scholarship to a good college so he had plans to leave their small town when he graduated. It had upset Meg to know that they would never get a chance to be together but, to her surprise, Eric had invited her over to his house one night when his parents weren't home to give her a _proper_ goodbye.

Meg remembered that night well.

But when she had been swallowed into the Entity's realm, the sex hadn't stopped. In the fog, they, the survivors, were all in it together, for better or for worse. They shared their fear, their loneliness, their frustrations, and, yes, even their horniness with each other. When there was nothing left for them but the endless cycle of mortal peril and death, sex helped many of them forget about their trials for a short while. A short respite from the cruelties that they all faced.

Joe didn't stop though. He rolled her breast in his hand, playing with her nipple as he continued to pry, "Ooo, a little experienced, huh? We like that. Let us guess," he pinched her sweet spot as he tilted his head in mock deliberation, "We bet when you first got here, Dwight was too much of a pussy for you to even consider fucking." Meg bit back a moan, the sound dying in her throat as Joe gave her nipple a generous tug.

The beads of sweat from the night's activities were re-gathering on her forehead as Legion continued, "Which only left you with quiet, modest Jake. Not much of a dirty talker, is he? You probably made enough noise for the both of you," he sneered.

"Shut up!" she yelled at him, her head still turned away. But she couldn't hide the red from her cheeks, or the way her chest heaved with every breath.

Unfortunately, as much as Meg hated to admit it, Legion was right. Dwight had tried to approach Meg once when they had all first arrived, the four of them, but she had turned him down. Gently, but quickly. He hadn't been her type back then. A long time had passed before Meg broke down and considered even having sex in the Entity's realm. When that had happened, yes, it had been with Jake Park. He was a sweet boy, and Meg was grateful for it in the early cruelness of the Entity's world. The tears of the night's pain were still fresh in her mind, but so, too, were the comforting words Jake had whispered to her as they kissed and writhed together in their pleasurable lovemaking.

She felt Joey's hand move to her other breast where her nipple twinged with anticipation.

"Poor Meg," the Legion breathed a sigh into the ear she presented him, "not a single one of the Entity's servants has graced your body with their ultimate offering, though many have likely tried from what we've been told."

"W-what do you mean?" she ventured to ask.

Part of her didn't want to know.

Under his mask, Meg could hear the insidious smile stretch, "Oh, you're a popular survivor to fantasize about, Meg Thomas. Many of us can't help but go feral at the thought of claiming you. But… you're slippery meat. All that running around, vaulting over obstacles… by the time one of us finally _does_ catch you, our lust for you has already shifted from sex to blood."

Even as he spoke, the knife slipped, nicking her chin as it did.

Meg's stomach turned at the thought that so many of the creatures she had learned to run from would have such regular, raunchy fantasies regarding her. It seemed that Joe was no exception to this as he began to roll her nipple between his thumb and forefinger through her tanktop. Her legs were like jelly as her emotions clashed within her.

"No… no, you're lying…" Meg tried to deny it, her face still flush with lust.

Joey chuckled darkly, sending chills through Meg's body, "You think so? Ask little Feng how her nights go. Even you've gotta admit that she doesn't get back to the Campfire until very late."

Meg got very still at that.

For a moment, Legion wondered if he had mentally broken Meg Thomas. Her eyes glazed over, staring off at some point in the distance, her eyebrows furrowing in thought. He would have enjoyed it more if he wasn't trying to rip a reaction out of her. He continued, giving her nipple a playful flick to bring her back to him, "As for the men, well, David's a bit of a loner, isn't he? Lots of nights he goes out by himself. _Loads_ of nights…"

The lewd words yanked Meg's eyes back to him. They were filled with fire as she spoke, "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because," Legion purred, "we _like_ to watch you squirm, Thomas. We _love _it. We want you to know that we will be hunting you down mercilessly each and every time our trials bring us together, and you will _wish_ that we were hooking you first instead of your friends because you will _know_ what awaits you when we finally _do_ come to find you."

Meg's heart thundered in her chest as the Legion spoke these words. A promise, a threat… whatever it was, it chilled the survivor to her core with terror.

Then as quickly as it had begun, the Legion stepped back, "Goodbye, Meg Thomas. Make sure to catch up on your reading, eh?" He winked before shoving away from her, dashing away into the fog and leaving her to find a gate to escape out from.

Meg felt her legs give out as she collapsed into the wall behind her, her nipples perky against her tank top and her womanhood aching from the unprecedented interaction. Gasping for air did little to comfort her as the words of Legion swam through her mind.

Only those few words echoed in Meg's mind: _Six-hundred-and-sixty-six_.


	3. Chapter 2: Illuminated

The first twinkling of dawn burst over the horizon as she raced out of the trial area for the night, leaving the Shelter Woods realm far behind and panting from the strain. This part had always filled her with hope and pride. Now only dread and worry consumed her thoughts. What was so special about her six-hundred-and-sixty-sixth escape? Why would it matter?

When she reached the encampment, she was immediately greeted by Claudette, one of her long-time friends. They hugged, desensitized to the blood and gore that covered them both.

"Just you?" she asked, casting a customary glance behind the returning survivor to see if anyone else would emerge from the fog.

Meg shook her head as she tried to catch her breath, "Just me."

She debated whether to confide in Claudette the strange actions of the Legion that night during her trial. Would it be too weird? Would it make them worry? She didn't want to do that to them, either. Based on the look on Claudette's face, they were already worried enough.

"What about you?"

Claudette turned towards the campfire, "Just Jake and me. Dwight and Jeff weren't so lucky." They picked their way through the grass to the campfire that never burned out.

"Who did you face?"

"Huntress, you?"

Meg's heart raced, "Legion."

"I hate those guys," Claudette made a face, "always talking in 'we' and 'us'. _Super_ creepy and _super_ arrogant all the time, ugh."

"Agreed," she let out a hollow laugh, _you have no idea._

Ace raised his head from the deck of cards he was shuffling, "Who you kids talkin' about?"

"Legion," Claudette piped, "Meg had to face Joe today."

"Joe, huh?" Ace glanced over once at Meg and did a double-take, "Whoa, what in the _hell_ happened to you, Meg? Looks like Legion played with you a little _too_ much,"

At that, Meg felt heat rising to her cheeks, "Y-yeah, he sure did,"

"Well, you should go on and get showered, we're still waiting on one more trial to end," Claudette insisted but Meg didn't need to be told twice. She wanted to wash _everything_ about this night away.

Showering usually made Meg feel better. It was the best part of the day, when she could wash off the muck and viscera of a victory trial. She was alone with her thoughts during these moments and, today, that wasn't such a good thing.

All she could think about was Joe. About the way he looked at her with those animalistic eyes… she was both revolted and bewitched at the sudden awe that had washed over Legion's gaze when he had announced her six-hundred-and-sixty-sixth escape coming up. The way he had stroked her with the knife as he regarded her... Meg's heart thundered in her chest as she shook her head.

No, she was reading too far into it.

_Reading_, the word echoed and called up the last thing Legion had said to her. To catch up on her reading. What had Joe meant by that? There was only one place that she knew that had books… and she was showering right next door to it. There was a library at the heart of the facility, but there was no telling who would be patrolling the area at this hour. Though this realm currently had no trial going on, it wasn't uncommon for the monsters to be lurking through the halls, punishing wandering survivors who strayed too far from their designated "safe" areas.

Curiosity nagged at her until she succumbed to the idea of at least taking a look through the library for something of interest. Though she had no inkling of what she might find, the thought that Joe was telling her something of value couldn't be passed up. Meg decided that she would investigate.

As soon as she dried her hair and pulled it all into her usual braid, the copper-headed track-star packed up her stuff and crept her way towards the library. Lery's was an eerie place with the television screens screaming around her. The generators were all powered down, prepared for a trial if the Entity summoned them to this part of the realm.

Meg slunk through the library's entrance and glanced over all the books. The room was dark without the generator powered, but Meg's eyes adjusted enough so she could read the titles of the books in the low light. Her fingers traced the spines of each one, trying to make out the names. A lot of them were manuals on torture, bondage, and anatomy guides, all topics that made Meg more than a little uncomfortable.

There was suddenly a heated presence against her back and a knife on her lips.

"Shhh," the sound was a deep purr against her ear as _he_ whispered into it, "we had our doubts that you would actually come." Meg struggled against an arm that only wrapped itself tighter around her waist, like a snake with a mouse.

"Now that you're here," Joe continued, unfettered, "we're curious to know what you were actually expecting to find."

Meg felt her cheeks flare red with embarrassment and hate. Truthfully, she had no idea what Legion had even meant by telling her the comment. What had she been expecting, really? Now it only seemed silly that she had come to investigate his cryptic message, just to fall back into his trap.

Joe relished his position of power, his voice so, _so_ close to her ear, she could hear the gravel in it, "You survivors trust so easily. Again and again, you try to escape, and for what? Haven't you ever wondered, Meg Thomas?"

_Every night I wonder_, she thought with bitterness. She side-eyed him, the knife blade still pressed to her rosy lips.

Meg could feel the heat rising from his body. It was like standing beside the Campfire. Or in it. The heat was… intense, unbearable… strangely comforting? There was something being pushed into her chest and she reached up with one hand to grab it. As her fingers brushed over whatever it was, Joe's temperament clicked, and he growled in a voice so menacing, Meg felt her knees quake, "This is our secret, do you understand?"

Meg mustered herself and gave a single, silent nod.

A growl of approval before he pulled away, "That's a good girl."

Something in her begged to run as his bloody gaze poured over her freshly showered body. The horrid red stain lingered over her chest, whether to eye the object he handed off to her or to eye something else, Meg loathed to consider, "Until our next trial, then, _Meg Thomas_."

And just like that, Joe was gone.


	4. Chapter 2 NSFW Excerpt

Curiosity nagged at her until she succumbed to the idea of at least taking a look through the library for something of interest. Though she had no inkling of what she might find, the thought that Joe was telling her something of value couldn't be passed up. Meg would investigate.

But her thoughts kept gravitating back to the knife-wielding maniac, reliving that moment of dread and pleasure over and over. No matter how much she washed herself, no matter how much she scrubbed with the loofah the Entity had given her when she had requested it, she could still somehow smell him on her. Lingering.

Meg felt violated. The truth of her companions and their late-night whereabouts began to elucidate past events that she now couldn't ignore. They had kept this information to themselves; whether out of fear or shame, Meg could only guess. And, to make matters worse, Joe had said that many of the other monsters desired Meg as well. _Strongly_.

A sickening feeling seized her and she gripped the wall of the shower as the ghost of Joe's hands returned to haunt her, toying with her nipples. He'd been the first – no, the _only_ – killer to have been remotely sexual with her. To find out that it was more commonplace than she had originally known… it felt wrong. So very, _very_ wrong. It was against everything that Meg had ever known. Killers were there to kill them, to make them hurt and suffer. Torture, yes. Pain, yes. Sacrifice, most definitely. But this? This idea that the Legion had planted in her brain, the attention he had so generously provided her lady bits… it was shaking the very foundation that Meg stood upon. Suddenly, the survivor discovered a newfound fear of these monsters.

She could still feel the impression of his cock pressed against her leg as she rinsed her out hair, her mind swirling with honest disgust and sexual intrigue. No matter how much she tried to deny it to herself, there was a small, repugnant part of her that yearned to know how things might have progressed if she had let Legion persist.

Meg scolded herself for it.

When another whiff of Legion filled her shower, Meg wanted to cry. She lathered up the soap for the third time in a row and began the process of washing every inch of herself. Again. Fingers lingered over her breasts, traitors to her in her time of need. Joe had defiled them, left them pink and swollen and _so sensitive_. Even the water seemed too much for their nerves to handle. Meg let out a small whimper.

She had to take care of her 'needs', she knew, otherwise it was only going to get worse for her as the night progressed.

With some hesitation, Meg pinched one of her own traitorous nipples. The world spun for a minute as she pressed herself against the shower wall for support, the pleasure on a completely different level than she had ever experienced before. How had Legion riled her up so much? Meg reached desperately between her thighs, to put an end to the torturous sexual buildup that Joe had caused.

The airstrip of dark hair led her right to the spot that Joe had toyed with when he had first trapped her. Meg realized it had been a while since she had shaved 'down there' and couldn't actually remember the last time she had had any interest in doing so. In fact, it felt like as the days progressed, Meg concerned herself less and less with her own primal needs and more and more with trying to escape. Shaving and sex had both been the last things on her mind lately.

Right now, however, sex was the only thing she could think about, thanks to Legion.

She cursed him again, rubbing her little nub with the force of her frustration. It was swollen and protruding, begging for the attention it had hardly received that evening. Every time she touched it, a shiver ran through her body, like lightning coursing through her. Her breathing became labored as she rubbed it in greedy circles. She closed her eyes, trying to think about something sexy to help set her off: David shirtless, pounding her from behind. His rough voice husky with desire as they slammed into each other, exchanging whispered, dirty obscenities and challenges.

Oh yeah, that image would work. That steamy night had _definitely_ lingered with her, and it was a memory she called on often in times like these. But each time she tried, the unwelcome visage of a black and white mask crept into her thoughts. She would try to redirect her mind, but it would pull back to the feeling of _his_ body against hers, pressing the wind out of Meg as he crushed her with his want.

Meg opened her mouth to lick a stray drop of water that had trickled over her lips, salty now with the sweat of her skin. _His_ voice replaced that of David's, becoming menacing and cold, that sexy Mancunian accent melting into the gravel of a Canadian one. Words of desire now filled with the promises of pleasure, torture, and terror. The survivor felt her body tighten as she recalled his words, "_Because we _like_ to watch you squirm, Thomas. We _love_ it._"

She shuddered at that even as the orgasm claimed her, racking her body with the throes of ecstasy so strong she could barely manage to keep herself upright. Meg let out a wail of euphoria, cut short by her desire to remain hushed. Who knew what monsters lurked in the shadows, especially now that she understood their true intentions.

Joe was transfixed with her. He'd been there since before she arrived, knowing that she would come. All survivors showered after their trials. Something about being covered in the gore was unpleasant to them. So, he had waited there, lurking like a fiend in the shadows of the showers until she arrived, a backpack full of supplies slung onto her shoulder. She looked the same as he had left her: disoriented and disheveled. Her nipples pressed themselves through her shirt with no subtlety, earning Legion a wave of satisfaction that he hadn't felt in a while.

All the showers except one were tampered with, he'd made sure of that, and it didn't take her long to deduce the only one that worked: the one that was directly in front of the shadows he currently occupied. His hand moved up and down his still-hardened shaft, nice and slow – to prolong the experience.

With great caution, Meg inspected the area a few times – ducking around the other stalls, leaning around corners, listening intently – before finally turning on the water and setting down her bag. Another couple cautionary glances and Meg began stripping down.

It was Joe's own private strip show, watching her first peel off the buttoned shirt he had ruined in his earlier avarice. She discarded it to the side with a shake of her head, disappointment clear in her face. It crumpled to the floor of the shower stall as the tank top which he had been playing with her breasts through followed suit. To see her topless now made his dick flex with blood, wanting so very badly to leave the stealth of the shadows to take what he desired. But, no, he would wait, and he would watch, and he would enjoy himself. There was still time yet to take her. For now, he drank up the sight of her sweaty body in the eerie fluorescent lighting, imagining what her flesh would taste like under his tongue.

When she turned around and moved her hands to her hips to slide off her skirt, Joe could feel his own twisted heart thundering like a herd of elephants in his ribcage. She could not hear it, thankfully. The shadows kept his threat to her hidden as she wiggled out of the tight little skirt, her delicious round ass practically popping out of it.

_Easy boy_, he paused in his strokes as he was overwhelmed with her sexuality. From where he stood, Joe could see her juicy pussy lips peeking out from under her firm ass, tempting him with their pink, welcoming sight.

Damn, he loved watching her from behind. All those years of running from danger, jumping over pallets, and vaulting through windows… they had done wonders for her physique. Her legs were so well-defined, her ass a perfect peach – Joe was a panting mess in the corner, begging like a hound to be released from the leash. The thing that made it sweeter was when she turned and entered the cascading water: he could finally see the work he had done to her body that evening as the dirt swirled away. Not only were there cuts, scratches, and bruises painting her pale canvas, but her nipples had remained nice and perky – all of it a testament to his deft finger-play.

She washed herself, and Joe relished in being a private spectator to all of the survivor's personal, bodily secrets. He took note of everything, from the cute birthmark on her left hip to the deep stab wound he recognized as one of his own. Meg would carry that until she fell asleep, something Joe was not ready to have happen just yet.

He savored his art while he still had the chance.

One more time she washed herself, scouring her body with the scrubber and soap she was using. Her face told him everything she was thinking, ping-ponging between abhorrence, confusion, and lust. Alone, Meg Thomas wore her emotions on her sleeve, unafraid to feel them by herself. Joe had only ever seen the survivor brave, cocky, determined, and, yes, very fearful. To see this uncertain side of her was a true treat.

His hand tightened around his shaft, still tormenting himself with the steady, controlled pumping action he had decided to take up.

A clear look of disdain washed over her face and Legion observed as the young woman swooned in the shower, steadying herself with her forearm against the tile. It was not long before she regained herself and returned to rinsing out her hair.

Legion smirked, gliding his hand up and down his cock as he watched Meg grapple with everything he had told her. All of it had been true. Her surprise to it was even more fuel for his delight. Had he really been the first to tell her these things? Had he truly been the first to pin down the infamous Meg Thomas? Joe took great pride in that. To make matters more delectable, he had let her go, despite the fact that she had been practically mewling and begging for him to take her. That fact alone made him lean his head back against the wall with deep satisfaction as he watched her lather up for round three.

The entire time, she had avoided contact with her own breasts. Joe had taken devious note of it, knowing full well why it was that she didn't dare touch them. Even from here, he knew he had done well when she let out a pitiful cry from how swollen her nipples had become. Seemed they were quite the sensitive spot for the Thomas girl; he would keep that in mind for future reference.

A look dawned on her face, and Joe knew this was the moment he had been waiting for. She would have to do it, she would have to touch herself to make the intense pleasure she was feeling subside. He had worked up her sexual drive this much intentionally, knowing full well (as much as she did) that simply waiting it out was not going to be possible. Not unless she wanted to be uncomfortably horny for the remainder of the night.

The sweat beaded on his temple as he watched Meg reach for one of her breasts. Her hand hung in the air for a minute, seeming to prepare herself for what would come, before her fingers tentatively closed in around her left nipple.

Joe grinned wickedly as Meg gasped and leaned against the shower wall for support, her blue eyes rolling up into her head for a second before she regained control of herself. There was no hesitation in her next action: she reached down to where her pussy lips were waiting for some loving stimulation, her desire to end the torment too clear in her face and actions.

Joe licked his lips as he watched her fingers dance, memorizing the patterns that she enjoyed, filing them away for use later. While one hand toyed with her pussy, the other cupped her sensitive breast, rolling it in a similar fashion to how he had done it during their last encounter. A devious smile touched his lips as his ego inflated.

Oh, how he desired Meg Thomas above all the other survivors. She was the one survivor that none had managed to ravish despite all her time in the Entity's realm. Her flighty nature kept her safer than the others, but it also meant that she was discovered earliest. If she wasn't the one escaping, Meg Thomas was usually the one dying. To make matters more interesting, no killer seemed able to keep her alive _and_ control their insatiable bloodlust by the end of the match so by the time they _did_ get to her, all they wanted to do was kill, not fuck. This had been Meg's existence each trial up until today.

But, today, Legion had gifted Meg with the truth… and he was going to keep on giving it to her. Over and over.

As she closed her eyes, Joe wondered what she fantasized about during these moments. Now that he had shared his intentions with her, Joe wondered if it was him she was currently thinking about? His greedy manhood throbbed at the consideration.

Her mouth gaped slightly and he wanted so much to trace those lips with his fingers, to hear her calling out his name. Her tongue darted out to lick the water from her lips, and Joe suddenly longed to know what that tongue would feel like licking the underside of his cock. He watched her like a true predator, eying the way her body tensed as she neared the height of her climax.

When she finally reached her peak, Legion pumped himself faster with longing. It was like watching a card tower collapsing. She shuddered and each part of her seemed to tremble with the force of her orgasm. Joe leaned his head back more as the sound of her release echoed in the tiled walls of the shower room, stifled short by her desire to remain coy.

It was almost too much for him to bear.

_You will _know_ what awaits you when we come to find you_, Legion restated the words to himself as he felt his lust for her grow insatiable.

Despite his desire, he forced himself to wait.

He would take her… in due time.

As soon as she dried her hair and pulled it all into her usual braid, the copper-headed track-star packed up her stuff and crept her way towards the library. Lery's was an eerie place with the television screens screaming around her. The generators were all powered down, prepared for a trial if the Entity summoned them to this part of the realm.

Meg slunk through the library's entrance and glanced over all the books. The room was dark without the generator powered, but Meg's eyes adjusted enough so she could read the titles of the books in the low light. Her fingers traced the spines of each one, trying to make out the names. A lot of them were manuals on torture, bondage, and anatomy guides, all topics that made Meg more than a little uncomfortable.

There was suddenly a heated presence against her back and a knife on her lips.

"Shhh," the sound was a deep purr against her ear as _he_ whispered into it, "we had our doubts that you would actually come." Meg struggled against an arm that only wrapped itself tighter around her waist, like a snake with a mouse.

"Now that you're here," Joe continued, unfettered, "we're curious to know what you were actually expecting to find."

Meg felt her cheeks flare red with embarrassment and hate. Truthfully, she had no idea what Legion had even meant by telling her the comment. What had she been expecting, really? Now it only seemed silly that she had come to investigate his cryptic message, just to fall back into his trap.

Joe relished his position of power, his voice so, _so_ close to her ear, she could hear the gravel in it, "You survivors trust so easily. Again and again, you try to escape, and for what? Haven't you ever wondered, Meg Thomas?"

_Every night I wonder_, she thought with bitterness. She side-eyed him, the knife blade still pressed to her rosy lips.

As if that murderous look would stop him from doing what he wanted to do to her.

He let go of her waist only to reach down between her legs. She was wearing sweatpants this time around, the thin material leaving her with little protection from his prodding fingers. The Legion snickered as Meg Thomas writhed underneath him. Her nub was bound to be more sensitive now that she had finished jilling herself off… and Legion took full advantage of this, rolling his fingers across her womanhood in the way he had seen her doing it moments before.

The blade sliced Meg's bottom lip as she gasped, and bucked away from his hand, but he held her there, steady. He adjusted his knife arm around her neck and nuzzled his face into the side of her head to keep her against him, prone. Her hands went to the crook of his arm, fearing that he was going to choke her out. Though the thought of her limp body excited him, he wanted her to be conscious when he did the things he did to her. He made it clear by tightening and then relaxing his hold over her throat.

She whimpered as quietly as she could while he toyed with her womanhood the way he had seen her do it in the shower. Each stroke seemed to draw out a new sound from the survivor, unlike anything he had ever heard her make in their short time together. They ranged from pleasurable moans to cursing scorns. She leaned into him, stuck between shying away from his violating hand or grinding her ass against the bulge that Legion was now proudly sporting. The more she struggled, the worse the situation became for her, and the harder Legion seemed to grow.

Her body betrayed her again as her forehead began to sweat. His fingers were so fast… so… fucking… _fa-_… Meg didn't know it was happening until the tidal wave of another orgasm overwhelmed her. Her vision went black for a complete two seconds from the force of it and her eardrums hummed an empty harmony. If Legion hadn't been holding her up, Meg would have collapsed to the floor. Her gasps and sounds were intoxicating to Joe who was finding it near impossible to hold himself back from her, worried that he might cream himself just from the sheer thrill of it all.

He smiled as he listened to her ragged breathing and felt her legs quivering from exhaustion, "We want you to remember this night," he cooed with sexual pride, taking in her heady scent as he whispered so irresistibly into her hair, "whenever you decide to play with yourself, whenever you fuck another one of your little survivor friends, we want you to remember this night and remember how we barely tickled your kitty and got you off. We want you to remember we haven't even given you a full taste of us yet."

_Yet_. The word hung in the air for her to consider.

His hold around Meg's neck loosened as he reached for something.

Meg could feel the heat rising from his body. It was like standing beside the Campfire. Or in it. The heat was… intense, unbearable… strangely comforting? There was something being pushed into her chest and she reached up with one hand to grab it. As her fingers brushed over whatever it was, Joe's temperament clicked, and he growled in a voice so menacing, Meg felt her knees quake, "This is our secret, do you understand?"

Meg mustered herself and gave a single, silent nod.

A growl of approval before he pulled away, "That's a good girl."

The survivor swayed on her weakened legs. Something in her begged to run as his bloody gaze poured over her freshly showered body. The horrid red stain lingered over her chest, whether to eye the object he handed off to her or to eye something else, Meg loathed to consider, "Until our next trial, then, _Meg Thomas_."

And just like that, Joe was gone.


	5. Chapter 3: It Begins

When Meg returned to the campfire, everyone there was sitting around in a circle, a pile of goodies already gathered in the center. Seemed like a few others had made it out of their trials. Claudette and Jake had survived their trial; Nea, David, and Ash had survived theirs; and Meg had been the sole survivor of hers. Ace was the only one who had gotten the day off, courtesy of the Entity.

Ace waved at her, "You comin'?"

"Feeling kind of tired tonight. You guys play without me."

Ace shrugged, "Suit yourself,"

Every survivor had their own "shack" where they gathered their items and offerings, the clothes that the Entity gifted them, and where they could rest between trials. Meg entered hers and fumbled to find the flashlight she kept by the door. A resounding click and the room lit up.

She made her way to the opposing wall where a collection of different colored tally marks were scratched into the wall. She shined the flashlight on the scratches, counting the green markings – the signs of her escapes. She was at six-hundred-and-fifty-six. Well… six-hundred-and-fifty-seven, if she counted the escape from Legion today. She marked the day off with a green stick of chalk. She needed nine more escapes to get to the number Legion mentioned.

Six-hundred-and-sixty-six.

Why was that number important?

Her hands trembled as she pulled out the object Joe had given her from her backpack. It was a book. A journal, to be more exact. She recognized the cover. It was from a guy by the name of Benedict Baker. He was a survivor, as far as Meg could remember from the writings she had read of his so far, but the book had disappeared around the time of the Entity's last blight. The journal had been somewhat of a guide for them, teaching them about the killers, the hatch, the red stain, all of it. When it had disappeared, there was some moaning about it, but the journal was quickly forgotten about after so many trials and passing days. Even as Meg cracked open the book, she had forgotten about the drawings and sketches Baker had left for them.

Where was he now, she wondered. Had the Entity consumed him? Meg flipped to the last page with writing on it. Her eyes skimmed the page until she read the part that stirred something within her. She read it out half out-loud, "_During the hunt, my time is restrained. I learn more and more but my hope and sanity deplete faster and faster. What is to become of me? Have the Killers started out at this Campfire too? I bid this journal adieu. I must focus on staying alive._"

'_Have the Killers started out at this Campfire too?'_

Meg felt a chill rattle her core.

Another thought reached out into her conscious, a thought she wished she could have thrown away as quickly as it had come: had the Killers once been survivors… like her?

There was a knock at her door. Meg scrambled to push the book into her backpack before she turned to face David entering. He was a well-built man, so he took up a good portion of the shanty door as he came in.

"David," Meg greeted, blinking with confusion as he stood there.

"Meg," he nodded to her, his voice that creamy Manchester accent that Claudette, Nea, and Meg all swooned over, "I'm… sorry to mither ya, but… I, uh, couldin't 'elp but notice, ya seemed a bit…" he shrugged, bobbing his head back and forth as the word came to him, "worked up? When ya got back from yer shower."

The heat rose to her cheeks once more that evening as David approached her, his burliness a nice change of pace from the lithe muscles of the Legion. He was one of the tallest of the male survivors, and that was evident from the way he towered over her, "Claudette said ya seemed a bit outta sorts when ya came back from yer trial…"

She smiled at him, trying to put his worry at ease, "Yeah, it just doesn't feel like I won tonight, you know?"

He nodded in understanding, then placed a thick hand on her shoulder, "Listen ta me, Meg. If anyone of them Legion _fuckers_ touched ya-" her lips somehow managed to find their way to his, forcing him to stop right where he was going with that. David didn't need to know. She didn't _want_ him, or anyone, to know. She just wanted to forget. Forget Legion, forget Joe, forget the Entity. Just… _forget_.

David was taken back by the sudden forcefulness of his companion though he wasn't complaining about it. Something was bugging her, he knew Meg Thomas long enough to know when the red-head was holding something back. But she would tell them in due time. Whenever she was ready, she would tell them. Until then, if it was a proper bumping that she needed right now, David King could _definitely_ provide.

* * *

Frank whistled a merry little tune as he sharpened his blade with a honing stone he had borrowed from Evan. The metal sang along with him as he slid it over again and again, sharper and sharper. He barely glanced up from his work as Herman came upon him, eyes forced wide open with the strange apparatus that he wore. His mouthpiece was unhinged, a sign that the good doctor wanted to chat.

"Frank," Herman began, "we need to talk."

The Legion leader finished sharpening his blade with one long, final stroke before giving his full attention to Herman, "What's up, doc?"

Not amused with Frank's antics, Herman was quick to the point, "One of the books is missing from the library. A survivor's journal. Benedict's. It's useful to the survivors as it has vital information about the realm and the Entity… and with Meg Thomas so close to her six-hundred-and-sixty-sixth escape-"

"Wait, you don't think we stole it, do you?" Frank's eyebrows raised along with the incredulousness in his voice, "We understand that we have had our past disagreements about the fate of the survivors, Carter, but we would never consider taking something of such value and giving it to them."

Herman shook his head, "I'm _just_ letting everyone know that it's missing."

Frank held up a hand, "Say no more, doctor. We understand. Want us to try to help you find it?"

The doctor considered the offer for a moment, "Perhaps. But if the survivors happen to have it, the chances that they will simply and willingly hand over the book are not high at all. It was challenging enough to steal it away from them during the Entity's Blight season. To try to do it again without the assistance of such a distraction will not be so easy."

"You're assuming they have it, then?" Joe entered the conversation, emerging from a doorway beside where Frank stooped to work on his blade.

Herman studied Joe as he spoke, "You are the last ones I have visited about this. I doubt any of the killers have any interest in a journal written by a survivor prior to being Awakened. If the journal is missing, it is only because a survivor must have taken it," he then added as an afterthought, "or that someone has _given_ it to them. Which reminds me," his bulging eyes were locked onto Joey who was still wearing his mask and hood, "didn't _you_ have a trial with Meg Thomas today?"

Joey could feel the heat of Frank's prying gaze as Herman moved to interrogate him. Joey laughed, trying to play it off as best as he could, "We did. And guess what? We let her go,"

Frank stiffened even as the doctor came down on Joe, a thick, hand grabbing the strap to his single-shoulder bag. Carter pulled him close, "_You-let-her-_go?" The whispering, punctuating tone he used for each word now was something the Legion had never seen outside of the trials.

"Easy, man," Joe pushed Herman away from him, "yeah, we let her go. What of it? The way we see it, the more beasts, the easier the work. When Meg Thomas joins us, imagine what hideous atrocity will our Mother twist her into. What crime will she commit? Aren't you the least bit interested?"

"That is not for us to interfere," another voice joined them. They turned in time to witness Philip uncloaking from the shadows of the hallway behind them, "Joe, you play with the balance of our Mother's realm."

Joe scowled, frustration clear in his voice, "We don't see what the problem is with… encouraging the inevitable,"

This time, Frank was the one to get physical, shoving hard at Joey's shoulder to spin him around to face his leader. He looked over Joey with a cold expression, eyebrows knit, "What the fuck is wrong with you lately? Did you actually… did you actually _do_ something… _with_ her?"

This time it was Joe's cheeks that flared up to a nice rosy color. His heart thudded in his ears as Herman took greater interest in the sudden exchange between the two masculine personalities of Legion. Joe needed to stop this before it got too misunderstood, "No! We didn't do anything _with_ her. We just… well, look, we just played around with her for a little bit. B-but nothing happened. Her potential is… we are… w-we're _just_ _curious_. That's all."

The killers around him stood in silence, judging and coming to their own conclusions about Joe's words and motives.

"And the book?" Herman probed Joe further.

He crossed his arms and avoided eye contact with everyone around him as he lied, "We haven't seen the damn thing in a long time."

Herman leaned in. As a psychologist he had come to learn when people were lying to him. Joe was doing an exceptional job of it. Herman was eager to pry the truth from him but a familiar tingle in the back of their minds called out for them, beckoned them to join _her_ in the heart of the realm. He would get the answers he sought from their Mother Entity.

Like beacons honing in on a signal, or flies to a source of light in the dark, they obeyed her command, trudging their way like zombies through the halls and out of Lery's, into the never-ending night air that nibbled at their deadened senses. No one spoke as they stepped through the tall grass. Their breathing and the swish of greenery against their clothes were the only sounds to accompany them.

A lone wolf howled in the distance as they entered the Foundry, long abandoned from what its original purpose was. Just a shade of its former glory. They stopped where they had been called, all of them in a perfect line right in front of the smelting pot. The others came ambling through the wilderness from different parts of the realm around them, but they all took their silent places on the lineup. Hands behind their backs, they stared forward at the pot, obedient, quiet, waiting for instructions from their Mother, their Master, the Entity.

When they had all arrived, her voice echoed through their minds as clear as crystal singing, "Welcome," they all collectively shuddered from the force of it. Joe steadied himself with a long breath as he prepared for the wrath that was surely to come raining down on him for his actions.

Another howl pierced the air and the unholy meeting began.


	6. Chapter 3 NSFW Excerpt

When Meg returned to the campfire, everyone there was sitting around in a circle, a pile of goodies already gathered in the center. Seemed like a few others had made it out of their trials. Claudette and Jake had survived their trial; Nea, David, and Ash had survived theirs; and Meg had been the sole survivor of hers. Ace was the only one who had gotten the day off, courtesy of the Entity.

Ace waved at her, "You comin'?"

"Feeling kind of tired tonight. You guys play without me."

Ace shrugged, "Suit yourself,"

Every survivor had their own "shack" where they gathered their items and offerings, the clothes that the Entity gifted them, and where they could rest between trials. Meg entered hers and fumbled to find the flashlight she kept by the door. A resounding click and the room lit up.

She made her way to the opposing wall where a collection of different colored tally marks were scratched into the wall. She shined the flashlight on the scratches, counting the green markings – the signs of her escapes. She was at six-hundred-and-fifty-six. Well… six-hundred-and-fifty-seven, if she counted the escape from Legion today. She marked the day off with a green stick of chalk. She needed nine more escapes to get to the number Legion mentioned.

Six-hundred-and-sixty-six.

Why was that number important?

Her hands trembled as she pulled out the object Joe had given her from her backpack. It was a book. A journal, to be more exact. She recognized the cover. It was from a guy by the name of Benedict Baker. He was a survivor, as far as Meg could remember from the writings she had read of his so far, but the book had disappeared around the time of the Entity's last blight. The journal had been somewhat of a guide for them, teaching them about the killers, the hatch, the red stain, all of it. When it had disappeared, there was some moaning about it, but the journal was quickly forgotten about after so many trials and passing days. Even as Meg cracked open the book, she had forgotten about the drawings and sketches Baker had left for them.

Where was he now, she wondered. Had the Entity consumed him? Meg flipped to the last page with writing on it. Her eyes skimmed the page until she read the part that stirred something within her. She read it out half out-loud, "_During the hunt, my time is restrained. I learn more and more but my hope and sanity deplete faster and faster. What is to become of me? Have the Killers started out at this Campfire too? I bid this journal adieu. I must focus on staying alive._"

'_Have the Killers started out at this Campfire too?'_

Meg felt a chill rattle her core.

Another thought reached out into her conscious, a thought she wished she could have thrown away as quickly as it had come: had the Killers once been survivors… like her?

There was a knock at her door. Meg scrambled to push the book into her backpack before she turned to face David entering. He was a well-built man, so he took up a good portion of the shanty door as he came in.

"David," Meg greeted, blinking with confusion as he stood there.

"Meg," he nodded to her, his voice that creamy Manchester accent that Claudette, Nea, and Meg all swooned over, "I'm… sorry to mither ya, but… I couldin't 'elp but notice, ya seemed a bit…" he shrugged, bobbing his head back and forth as the word came to him, "I don't know, worked up? When ya got back from yer shower."

The heat rose to her cheeks once more that evening as David approached her, his burliness a nice change of pace from the lithe muscles of the Legion. He was one of the tallest of the male survivors, and that was evident from the way he towered over her, "Claudette said ya seemed a bit outta sorts when ya came back from yer trial…"

She smiled at him, trying to put his worry at ease, "Yeah, it just doesn't feel like I won tonight, you know?"

He nodded in understanding, then placed a thick hand on her shoulder, "Listen ta me, Meg. If anyone of them Legion _fuckers_ touched ya-" her lips somehow managed to find their way to his, forcing him to stop right where he was going with that. David didn't need to know. She didn't _want_ him, or anyone, to know. She just wanted to forget. Forget Legion, forget Joe, forget the Entity. Just… _forget_.

David was taken back by the sudden forcefulness of his companion though he wasn't complaining about it. Something was bugging her, he knew Meg Thomas long enough to know when the red-head was holding something back. But she would tell them in due time. Whenever she was ready, she would tell them. Until then, if it was a proper bumping that she needed right now, David King could _definitely_ provide.

He reached for her breasts, knowing how much she loved to have them played with, but Meg grabbed his calloused hands with hers firmly, "No…! No… not there. I… I just want… I just want to fuck…"

_Now that's a change_, David raised his eyebrows and shrugged, "If that's what ya want,"

She released his hands so that he could begin undressing himself, starting to work at his belt first as she turned away from him. There was something in her eyes as she did so, some sort of trouble brewing there. He was about to get his dick wet, though, so he set aside his reservations and unbuttoned his pants, thinking no more on the matter as the denim fell to the floor in a heap. Next, he began to unbutton his shirt, eying Meg as she also began discarding layers.

All the survivors had become very fit in their time in the realm of the Entity, but Meg topped all of them with her physique. She had abs, she had muscles, and she could hold positions that the other girls couldn't even dream about. Oh yeah, David King was excited for this, his dick already swelling at the prospect.

To his surprise, she only undressed from the waist down, her sweatpants in a pile by the side of her bed. Meg glanced over her shoulder at David, her blue eyes hungry for… he wanted to say for him, but he wasn't entirely sure. He gave himself a couple good tugs to make sure he was hard enough for her flower before closing the distance between them. Those blue eyes never left him as he positioned himself behind her, his hand trying to guide himself into her sweet lips.

His tip penetrated her already soaking pussy, and Dave let out a low, lewd, "Ohhhh yeahhhhh," as it buried deeper into her.

Meg gasped, turning to face forward as she felt him sink further into her womanhood. Her pussy quivered with the pleasure of it. Wrapped itself tight around him like a vice. David had never felt her quite like this before. Everything _so_ tight, _so_ slick. What had wound up this music box? Whatever it had been, he was thankful for it. It had been a while since he had felt pussy this good.

He withdrew just as slow as he had entered, enjoying every second of it. He wanted to make sure his dick was completely covered in her juice. But it did more than that. She was dripping so much, his balls were soon covered in it, dripping a mess onto the floor.

"Oh, damn, Meg," he breathed, barely able to handle how much she was for him right now, "look how fuckin' wet ya are,"

She let out a moan at that, and the real sex began.

David began to pump in and out of her with more speed, no longer caring to keep a torturous, slow pace. She was already soaking wet, he would just take advantage of it. He grabbed hold of her hips, glancing over the wound that Legion had likely given her on her last trial. It had already healed up, but it would remain there until she went to sleep. It was ugly to look at, but, then again, he wasn't Prince-Fucking-Charming either whenever the Huntress got ahold of him. He would just ignore it and focus on giving her a good fuck.

After all, it seemed like she _really_ needed it and David was happy to help.

"Oh, please," Meg whispered, still trying to keep their current activity a secret from the others, "please fuck me harder."

"Ya know I will, love," David obliged, gliding in and out of her like a well-oiled generator piston. There was so much lubrication, his balls slapped sloppily against her clit and stuck there with every push, peeling away to start the process over again. Their bodies collided in a rhythmic fashion until David stopped to force her stance wider with his leg and bent her further forward. The new position allowed him to delve deeper into her core with every thrust. He could feel her grinding against him in approval.

Their pants and moans filled the modest shelter as Meg tried to focus on how good it felt with David dipping himself into her honey again and again. She tried to focus on the way his cock literally throbbed inside her. Or the way his hands felt gripping her tight waist as he bounced her on his dick. He whispered naughty things into her ears but, try as she might, his Mancunian voice was not enough to overpower the words Legion had hauntingly left her with: _"We want you to remember this night… whenever you decide to play with yourself, whenever you fuck another one of your little survivor friends, we want you to remember this night and remember how we barely tickled your kitty and got you off… we want you to remember we haven't even given you a full taste of us yet."_

Meg felt another rush of euphoria cascade uncontrollably through her, this time taking David King down with her in the process. Forcing himself to the hilt of his sword, David released into her, pumping her full of his seed as he gasped nasty things into her ear, "Yeah, ya like tha', doncha, love? Mmm… damn, babe, this pussy is so delicious…"

But Meg wasn't listening to him. She wasn't even paying him any mind as he went in for sloppy seconds, starting up his pace again. All she could think about was how this was nothing, _nothing_, like what Legion had done with her. It felt nothing like it. A mere shadow of an experience. Meg felt disgusted with herself as David mixed the result of their orgasms together with every new push. Their juices mingled and mixed before oozing to the floor. The extra liquid ran down the insides of her legs and even David's balls were soaked with it now.

When she had grown too quiet for his liking, he grabbed her braid and yanked her back onto him, growing more wanton in his actions as he continued to fuck her. Meg hissed as her head snapped back to stare up at the ceiling, his other hand moving under her shirt to grip her breast as leverage. It helped to give him a different angle, sinking deeper into her in this new direction, "Tell me ya like it, bitch,"

When she didn't answer, he removed his hand from her under her shirt and gave her rump a hearty smack. Meg warbled a moan but Dave wasn't having it, giving her another slap across the ass so that it reddened with his handprint, "I wanna hear ya _say_ _it_."

His voice was deep with lust, and Meg briefly wondered if the others would be able to hear how steamy it was getting at her place. David's dick slid in and out of her as she managed to gasp, "I fucking love it. Fuck me _harder_, David,"

She could feel him swelling from the ego stroke, his pace increasing to accommodate her desires, "Oh yeah, you're a dirty lil' survivor girl. Tell me how much ya love get'ing your pussy pounded,"

Meg moaned, grateful for the momentary distraction, "I'm a dirty little survivor girl… who loves getting her pussy… _pounded_."

A growl of approval, "That's a good girl." Those words were enough to send her back careening between disgust and desire again, but David, so lost in his aphrodisia, hadn't noticed the change in her mood. He continued to pleasure himself with her body, intoxicated with her sex now, "Daddy David is gonna show yer pussy some _deep_ lovin', baby girl," he gave her ass another smack, leaving his hand there to steady them as he continued to thrust wildly into her.

It was beginning to be too much for Meg to bear until she felt David's body tense. She knew what was going to happen next and prepared herself.

Their gasps and moans became more erratic, uncontrolled as David gave her two final, long, drawn-out strokes before shuddering another orgasm into her puffy, pink trap. He couldn't help it. Her pussy was swimming, hot, and tight. Any other man wouldn't have lasted as long as David had. He pushed his release deep into her again to make sure she understood that he had dominated her and defiled her and made her _his_ tonight. He filled her full of his cum so that she and anyone else who had any doubts would know that David King was the one that Meg Thomas crawled to for a good fuck. Yeah, he knew that at some level she was the one using him but, at the same time, she had helped him bust a nut twice so… the relationship between them was at least mutual.

He pulled out his cock nice and slow, enjoying the tightness of Meg's snatch as he uncorked himself from her. A nice cascade of dripping juices rushed from her hole as he took a step back to admire his work and clean himself off. Meg stood there, shaking from the experience, her recently showered body now a total mess again.

David sighed as he grabbed a nearby towel to wipe his genitals and legs off. Meg reached for her shower towel to do the same. Despite how delicious the sex had been, the female survivor felt ashamedly unsatisfied, and she had only one person to thank for that.


	7. Chapter 4: Obedience

Meg rubbed her eyes, encouraging them to stay open. To stay awake. To continue reading. When David had left her to join the others, she had opened the journal at the very beginning, where Benedict wrote about his research prior to the day he had awoken in the fog. When she reached the oh-too-familiar part of Benedict's first moments in the Entity's realm, it was heart-wrenching. To read someone else's thoughts on the situation she was currently in… it was like an echo from the past, predicting her future.

It was unnerving, to say the least.

The other survivors had long gone to bed, calling it a night when Ace managed to cream them once again with his uncanny luck. Meg couldn't help but shake her head and smile as she heard them giving each other a hard time before leaving the Campfire to hit the hay. As far as Meg knew, she was the only one awake. The only sounds of the night were the Campfire crackling and the small gusts of wind rustling leaves around her, punctuated by the sporadic turning of journal pages. No sounds of screaming, no chainsaws in the distance, and no panting, nasty Legion.

For that, Meg was grateful.

Each entry of the journal was accompanied by a detailed sketch of familiar objects and people. The Trapper's cruel mask, the blades of the Nightmare's glove, a pallet leaning against a tractor. They were accurate in their representation. In an entry about the pallets, Meg was shocked to discover that the Entity prevented the killers from interfering with their standing position. Some sort of rule that they abided by, according to Baker.

She had just flipped over to the next page – Baker's entry about the Doctor – when a sudden gust of wind rattled all the survivors' shanty shelters. Boards clattered and shook against the invisible force. Then, in an instant, the camp was cast into uncomfortable darkness. For the first time since Meg had arrived in the Entity's realm, the Campfire went out. Meg's heart thundered in her chest as she immediately gripped the flashlight she was using to read tighter, closing the journal and flicking the light to the door of her shack.

Were the others okay? Were they awake? Did they notice, too?

The wind had died with the flames, leaving no sound in the night. Stillness rung.

There was definitely something outside, she could hear the bushes rustling, footsteps coming closer, and the heartbeat that now pounded in her ears was screaming for her to run. But something else told her to stay, whispered it into her mind like injecting dye into water. It conflicted with her desire to survive.

…Was it the Campfire that kept the monsters away?

Meg slowly sat up in her bed, rigid as a plank, waiting for _something_ to happen.

* * *

She was cute half-asleep, staring at the front door of her shack house. She was probably tired after her recent trial against the Legion. So tired she didn't even bother checking the window that a dark figure stood at. It didn't help that she was trying to stay awake to read Baker's journal, either. Joe had nearly fucked them all with that, but good, ole Freddy was here to help fix everything.

The moment he tried to put her to sleep, he knew _just_ how Meg Thomas would react. After almost three years, oh yeah, Freddy could comfortably say that he knew _exactly_ how each survivor acted when the sleepiness hit. Meg Thomas was the runner. At the first sign of trouble, she was always the first to bolt. Not out of fear, but because she knew that her speed was her best strategy to keep off the hook… unless they could catch up to her. With three other teammates, Meg had a chance to get away. In this scenario, however, it was only her and him. Freddy had personally made sure that all her fellow survivor friends were in the deepest sleep of their lives before he rotated to Meg's piece-of-shit hovel.

Freddy reached his free hand out and performed a come-hither motion, the sleep demons eager to obey and pull her under. He let out a dark chuckle as he watched Meg's head lull to the side – a sign that his power was beginning to take root. As predicted, the survivor girl shot to her feet, one hand clutching her flashlight while the other held the source of all their troubles: the journal. She gripped it like a map as she bolted towards the window to vault it.

He held out his arms, ready for her to literally jump into them.

Meg hesitated, just in time to fall into the Sleep Realm and see Freddy on the other side of her window. She gasped and took a step back as Freddy swung at her. His claws slashed the air between them as she flashed the light mercilessly into his eyes. The Nightmare growled like a wolf as the light blinded him.

"Why are _you_ here?!" she demanded.

Stars spangled his vision even as he laughed, his voice deep and demonic, "You know why, _bitch_. Now give me the damn journal!"

"NO!"

He could hear her footsteps thundering out the front door, even as his vision returned to normal. Freddy stalked to the other side of the shelter to catch a quick glimpse of Meg Thomas plunging into the fog just past the snuffed-out Campfire.

Oh, how he liked these games.

With his claws outstretched, he power-walked after her, blue eyes scanning the woods as the fog rolled in thick around them. They were heading towards a realm that Meg and Freddy had been to many times in their trials together: Mount Ormond Resort. He knew what would be waiting for them there, but poor Meg didn't. The poor bitch wouldn't know what was going on until it hit her like a sack of bricks.

Freddy couldn't wait to see the look on her proud face. He smirked as the trees started to thicken with snow. They were almost there.

* * *

Meg was exhausted.

No, exhausted was an understatement. She was worn out, beaten, drained. Dead would have been a better state. In a single day, Meg had endured a trial against the Legion where she had been doing most of the work and where she had received a deep stab wound to her back, she then had been assaulted, had had some one-on-one time with a mister David King, and then tried to stay up late reading a journal that she now clutched for dear life in her hand… sure, why not throw in a random, single-survivor trial late at night against the Nightmare? Oh yeah, no worries, Meg could handle it. After all, she was almost at her six-hundred-and-sixty-sixth escape _and _she had a flashlight, _clearly_ she could take this trial on, yup, no problem.

Her grouchiness was at its peak as she stumbled passed a bush covered in frost. She managed to step over a fresh pile of snow as she beelined for the main building.

Mount Ormond. _Great_. Her sour mood worsened.

It wasn't her favorite place to perform trials, but the loops were strong and easy to learn. The Nightmare would have a hard time catching her here. To help her odds, she tucked the journal away under her shirt and into the back of her pants so that she could have a free hand to run faster and maintain her balance. Even jumping through windows was easier with at least one hand to assist her through it.

Meg had at least a small, fighting chance.

As she rounded the corner and entered the main building, however, Meg Thomas screeched to a grinding halt. It was a deer in headlights moment for her. Her half-asleep, half-awake brain couldn't figure out what, exactly, she was staring at. Panic rippled through her as she realized that everything about this was wrong. So very, _very_ wrong.

The Trapper, the Hillbilly, and the Legion all loomed around the warmth of the fire burning in the center of the building, the hearth. Their eyes glinted with hunger in the flame's light as they watched her with mute intrigue, arms crossed. Waiting. Meg tried to turn to run, but the Nightmare was already there, coming in hot.

Turning back, she gasped as she was grabbed by the front of her shirt and lifted right off her feet. Not at all following the rules the Entity had set forth. But the Trapper didn't seem to care about those right now as he threw her to the ground at the feet of Legion and Hillbilly. The hearth's warmth was the only comfort Meg felt as she rolled onto her back to face whatever fate they planned for her. Her only defense, the flashlight, clicked on to shine into the Trapper's eyes, but her hand exploded with pain as the torch was kicked out of reach by the Hillbilly.

Meg let out a sharp cry of pain and drew her hand into her chest to nurse it.

"Where's the journal?" Legion demanded.

Her blue eyes challenged him, her hate for each of the killers burning into every feature of her face. She could hear the sneers shared from the monsters that surrounded her, but it was the Trapper who growled out menacingly, "We see the defiance in your eyes, Meg Thomas. Do not deny us a second time. Outside of a trial, there is no death. Only pain," he iterated his point by clipping her shoulder with his machete. Meg cried out again, louder, snapping out of the Dream World that Nightmare had pulled her into. Blood rushed to the wound and her hand went to it instinctively.

Why was the journal so important? The survivors had lost it once. Had the creatures taken it? She considered her position for a moment. They needed four killers to shake her down for it. Why? Why so many? Why didn't they want her to have it?

Meg could barely breathe with the multiple red stains beaming down at her. She was not used to more than one stain at a time and the pounding of multiple heartbeats in her ears was deafening. Looking down at herself, it looked as if they had dumped buckets of blood over her head, their red stains were that thickly layered. She glanced down at her shaking hands, her right hand already bruising where the Hillbilly had kicked it and her left slick with the fresh blood from her shoulder.

"What…" she started, her voice dying in her throat. She forced the question out anyway, pushing through the fear of what the answer would be, "what's… going to happen… to me… at six-hundred-and…sixty-six?"

Someone knelt down beside her. Legion, perhaps – she was apprehensive to glance at who it was, "The journal, Meg, if you don't mind…"

A lump formed in her throat as she carefully reached behind her back to retrieve what they wanted. She could feel them noting her every move as she pulled it out. There was a moment of hesitation before she held it up to the Legion, not looking at any of them as she handed it over. Her bloody hand shook from the strain of holding it up to him. There was no fuss made, no fight to be had. Meg just wanted this terrible day to end.

Legion stood from his crouching position and handed the journal to Trapper. The brute seized the journal from the other killer with a low snarl, flipping through the pages to ensure that there were no tricks being played on them. When he was satisfied with what he saw, he bowed his head to his companions. Evan handed the book over to Max next and addressed the survivor before him, "What have you learned from this journal, Meg Thomas?"

Her heart leapt into her throat as he addressed her by her full name, his voice warped and terrible. It wasn't often that they spoke to the survivors. Especially not the Trapper. His voice was unfamiliar to Meg.

Terror pounded through her veins as she decided to answer his question with a question of her own, "…Did you used to be a survivor once, too, Evan MacMillan?"

Stars danced across her vision as her head collided with the floor. It took her a moment to realize what had happened as her forehead exploded with pain from her right temple. Something hot tickled her skin as it dripped down. She was barely able to reach up and touch the new bleeding wound when a thick hand clenched a good amount of her shirt and hoisted her up to her feet. The room spun and Meg let out a grunt of agony and fear.

His smiling mask was revoltingly close to her face now. So close, she could see eyes boiling with rage behind it, "_You_ will _not_ speak to _me_ in such a manner, survivor scum. You forget yourself," he gave her a hard shake to remind her, "and the current, _mortal_ predicament you currently face."

"Let's just cut her open and force her to put her organs back inside." Freddy suggested, his voice ethereal and his blades clicking together in earnest from where he lurked in the Sleep Realm.

Legion crossed his arms again, "I second that idea. Disembowel her, that should be enough to teach her a lesson."

The only one who remained quiet was the Hillbilly, who watched with restrained intrigue as he breathed like a pug with a cold beside them all.

Trapper looked over Meg, for once taking in the extent of how beaten her body was for the evening. Joe had left little for them to play with… bruises and puckered lines where cuts graced her skin decorated the entirety of her body. There was little room for them to add more markings to her flesh, but that didn't mean they couldn't break her emotionally, spiritually. The Entity had given them all permission to do so that evening. Meg Thomas' time was soon to come, she had told them, and they had been instructed to be especially cruel with her in any way they saw fit. It was, after all, part of the process.

He leaned forward with eyes closed and took a long, deep breath in.

Meg pushed herself as far away as she could manage, her hands pressing against the rubber of his jumper in her attempt, repulsed by the proximity of him. The Trapper himself smelled of sweat and blood, metal and tar, and from where he held her, Meg could feel the heat emanating from him just like she had with Legion before.

"Hmmm," the Trapper rumbled, as he opened his eyes again, "I'm surprised I hadn't noticed the _host_ of smells on you before."

Meg's face twitched as she remained very still. Terror and uncertainty coursed through her.

"Tell me… did you enjoy your time with David King?"

Her eyes widened and the Trapper lowered her as he simultaneously brought her in closer, that heat inescapable, "Oh yes, I can _easily_ smell him all over you. You _reek_ of his scent."

Her face flushed a scarlet color, and the Trapper now understood why so many of his fellow hunters pined for this one. He'd never personally found her as appetizing as some of the other morsels but, oh yes, he could see why they might. Breaking Meg Thomas down now was a delicious honor that he refused to pass up.

Not when he had an audience.

He crushed her into his chest, relishing in the way she trembled in his grasp.

The others watched with cruel fascination as he continued, a little more softly this time, "But we've heard through the fog that there might be _someone else_ on your mind…"

Meg hissed, sickened by the words he spoke with disgusting glee, "I don't know what you're talking about."

The Trapper let out a sinister chuckle, "No? Are you sure? Do you want me to bring _him_ in here for you? That might help to jostle your memory."

Her heart thundered in her chest at the thought of facing Joe again. Meg squirmed harder against his grip. She slammed a fist down onto his dead chest with the only retort that she could muster: a pathetic, "F-fuck you!"

Nightmare and Legion both shared a snicker as Evan towered over the small survivor, "Be careful of the words you choose, Meg Thomas. Consider this your only warning. The next lie I catch coming from your lips, I will rip your tongue from your skull, do you understand?" He pressed his machete against her cheek to make his point clear, placing it parallel with the cut that Legion had adorned her with earlier.

Meg cast her gaze down in defeat, white-hot rage boiling her blood. Evan could feel it rising from her body like steam.

"Say. It."

The survivor gritted out her response, "I… understand."

Watching her this close to her Awakening was interesting to Evan. He'd seen only a few, _select_ survivors make it this far. It was a rarity. And then to have seen the process in its entirety, from the day she had arrived up until now, he was impressed with the Entity's Mother's ability to discern who would be a worthy addition to her realm and who would become nothing more than food for the fittest. Meg Thomas would make a fine killer, no matter what shape she would assume when she Awakened. Evan had faith in Her design.

"Good… goooood," he smirked, satisfied with her newfound obedience. The Trapper released his hold over her, sending Meg sprawling to the floor. Her body was weak from the tribulations of the evening, Evan saw it in the strain of her muscles as she tried to prop herself back up again, "There's no use in fighting it anymore, Meg Thomas. She has chosen you to become Her next vessel, and you _shall_ accept Her with open arms. As many of us have before you."

Meg's hand was pressed to the wound in her shoulder, taking its time to heal. The fiery defiance of her survivor nature lashed out – an animal trapped in a corner, "I won't do it. If that's what escaping six-hundred-and-sixty-six times does, then I won't-"

Evan cut her off: "Then you will lose hope with each and every death. Every trial lost will be a step closer to becoming one with Her… entering the Void… your existence, _forgotten_."

The way he spoke these words, the things he was saying… they sent dread through her. Somehow, Meg knew the Trapper was telling her the truth. Even through the mask he wore, she could see the truth of it in the way he smiled at her, enjoying every minute of this abnormal torture.

It was a true terror to behold.

"Fate of _all_ survivors, Meg… Tho_mas_," Maxwell gargled, enunciating her name with great care.

The Nightmare continued, adding insult to injury: "Sprinting full-speed towards it unlike any survivor we've seen before."

Frank crouched again by her ear with his smiley face mask taunting her, "And if you tell your survivor friends about it... guess what? You'll only condemn them, too, making them wonder: what even _is_ the point of these trials? Why try to escape? Then off they'll go, to the Void, to become a part of Her… all thanks… to _you_."

Something in Meg snapped at that. At the mention of her friends. That they, too, would be faced with the same decision and be forced to keep it secret. That she would have to keep this to herself or else risk the chance of the others giving up and fading away. The weight of the truth of it all, the hatred she harbored for each of these monsters, the uncertainty of her fate… all the emotions of the evening swirled together and sparked an inferno of rage inside Meg.

She reached her palm up to the Legion's face, catching him completely off-guard as she slammed his head into the wooden floor beside them. And then slammed it down _again_. The Hillybilly reached to restrain her, yanking her away from Frank who was stunned by the survivor's action. In her frenzy, she spun on Max next.

Evan moved with grace as he gathered her wrists in a single motion, in a single hand, and held her up over the ground. Meg kicked and struggled and cursed him, but the giant man just watched her, drinking in her outburst with twisted fascination. Every kick was a deadened blow against a monster who could feel almost nothing.

"Yes, fight, Meg Thomas. Fight so the Entity Mother can drink in your hope," the Trapper leaned her in as he interrupted her tantrum, "for when you face us, know that we, Her servants, will be especially cruel with you. Every trial will be a private nightmare orchestrated just for you by the Entity. Tonight… tonight was only the beginning. Tomorrow we are eager to see who She calls to hunt you. Know that whoever it is will show you no mercy. Pray that it is not me you face tomorrow, Meg Thomas,"

He threw her to the ground in the direction she had originally come from. It was like throwing a sack of flour, the way she collided with the ground in her weakened state. Meg was certain that she had knocked her cheekbone hard enough to bruise it. She tried to stand up, to run away from this horrid place, but a boot sprawled her back down onto the ground, "No, survivor _scum_, you will _crawl_ back to your pitiful Campfire. Crawl and remove yourself from our presence. We are done with your insolence."

The Trapper's voice was animalistic, dangerous and dark. She dared not look back at him as she obeyed his order now, fearful of what she might see or, perhaps, might trigger if she did.

The snickers of the other killers grew into catcalls and howls as Meg left behind the warmth of the hearth and plunged one hand deep into the freezing snow. Her teeth chattered from exhaustion and the sudden temperature change. Tears threatened to fall from the embarrassment of what was happening to her. She could feel their horrid red gazes watching her as she crawled away from them on all fours. Though she had long left the comforting light of the Lodge, it felt as though they were still ogling her from their corrupted sanctuary afar.

It wasn't until their taunts dissipated far into the snow that Meg allowed herself to cry.


	8. Chapter 4 NSFW Excerpt

"Yes, fight, Meg Thomas. Fight so the Entity Mother can drink in your hope," the Trapper leaned her in as he interrupted her tantrum, "for when you face us, know that we, Her servants, will be especially cruel with you. Every trial will be a private nightmare orchestrated just for you by the Entity. Tonight… tonight was only the beginning. Tomorrow we are eager to see who She calls to hunt you. Know that whoever it is will show you no mercy. Pray that it is not me you face tomorrow, Meg Thomas,"

What happened next, Meg would never forget.

With deftness, the Trapper bent her over his knee and gave her already sore ass a beefy smack with his free hand. Meg let out a sound that was best described as a confused mixture of pain and pleasure before gasping, "L-let go of me!"

A nerve twitched in her eyebrow as he raised his hand to do it again, defying her wishes. He left it high above them, hedging the experience to torture her. She squirmed. Tried to get away, but Evan held her with an iron grasp. When it finally _did_ come down, the power behind it rattled Meg to her skeleton. The sound echoed through the lodge's open room and the other three watched with captivation as their twisted leader continued to dole out more sweet, sweet punishment. Meg cried and writhed, trying to escape, but Evan's hands held her fast as another smack and another was always waiting. Her flesh burned as the Trapper rained down another set, ending it this time with his hand resting on her bottom and giving it a good, firm squeeze.

Meg's face was as red as they'd ever seen it. Not even chasing her a full trial made her turn that color. She was flushed, exhausted, trembling over Evan's knee like a leaf in a storm. The Trapper's breathing had become more ragged in the process, the heady sounds that Meg now tried to sniffle back more than exhilarated him, "Have you learned your lesson yet, heretic?"

Her breath caught in her throat as she stubbornly held onto her insubordination, "I will _never_… be like _you_."

The Trapper let out a boisterous laugh that sent the light around them scattering, "Oh, Meg Thomas, when the Entity finally _does_ bless you," he leaned in with a glint in his eyes, "you'll be _far worse_ than I could ever hope to become."

Yanking down her sweatpants to take a look at his handiwork, Evan's smile curled. Her ass was redder than blood, parts of it already welting and bruising. He ran his rugged hands over her flesh, thumbing the parts that were swelling. Meg let out a quiet whimper.

Music to his ears.

"You know as well as I do that it will heal, survivor," the Trapper assured.

Legion approached them, cautious, as if he were coming upon a feral animal gnawing on a bone, "May we… play with her?"

Evan glared at him, "This is _not_ the time for playing."

Freddy interjected next, "But look at how round and pink that fuckin' ass is," Meg could hear him making lewd sounds with his mouth, glad that she wasn't asleep to see it, "just let me put my tongue in it a little."

The Trapper growled, "I'm sure the Entity will give you both the chance soon enough. For now, it is my duty—" he returned his gaze to Meg, "—to teach her _our_ ways and the error of _hers_." Another clap on her ass, this time the sound of flesh on flesh setting everyone's senses alight. Meg shrieked as she strained against him, the sound almost akin to hooking her.

The trio shuddered at her ripe sound, but Trapper only raised his hand once more.

She watched Legion unabashedly whip out his dick, stroking himself in front of her and the others that stood nearby. Moments later, she could hear another similar, sickening sound, suspecting either the Nightmare or the Hillbilly was touching themselves next. Meg didn't know, she shut her eyes tight against the force of another smack.

"Beg. Beg for forgiveness, Meg Thomas," she felt his breath hot on her neck as his hand gave her raw ass another squeeze, "beg, and we promise to be merciful with you during our next trial together."

Meg whimpered as he kneaded the flesh there, taking note of how fiercely red and sensitive it was becoming. Evan, too, was becoming aroused from the unholy sounds the survivor was making. His tongue licked his lips behind the shadow of his mask.

"Go fuck yourselves, creeps." Meg yelled, still squirming.

Her stubbornness was legendary.

"Foolish girl," he grew tired of her defiance.

_She will beg for forgiveness. One way or another, she will beg for it._

He threw her to the ground in the direction she had originally come from. It was like throwing a sack of flour, the way she collided with the ground in her weakened state. Meg was certain that she had knocked her cheekbone hard enough to bruise it. She tried to stand up, to run away from this horrid place, but a boot sprawled her back down onto the ground, "No, survivor _scum_, you will _crawl_ back to your pitiful Campfire. Crawl and remove yourself from our presence. We are done with your insolence."

The Trapper's voice was animalistic, dangerous and dark. She dared not look back at him as she obeyed his order now, fearful of what she might see or, perhaps, might trigger if she did. Her sweatpants hung off her body and around her thighs, her stinging rump as red as her own face. Both of her cheeks were now redder than cherries. She was forced to leave her pants sagged; every attempt she made to adjust them over her exposed skin resulted in a shallow slice of the Trapper's machete onto her hand until she whimpered in defeat. He stood over her to ensure she couldn't make herself decent and followed her to the threshold of the resort.

The snickers of the other killers grew into catcalls and howls as Meg left behind the warmth of the hearth and plunged one hand into the freezing snow. Freddy and Frank took turns with their immodest comments:

"Oh yeah, Meg, you crawl that fine ass away."

"Ugh, I can't wait to stick my dick in that."

Her teeth chattered from exhaustion and the sudden temperature change.

"Just look at how juicy her pussy looks from here."

"You're lucky today wasn't playtime, Thomas."

Tears threatened to fall from the embarrassment of what was happening to her.

"Are you sure the Entity said to wait until tomorrow, Evan?"

"I'm going to make you _scream_, baby girl."

Snow fell on her exposed backside, cooling the inflamed flesh there with gentle kisses.

"Ow-owww~!"

"Yeah, crawl, bitch, _crawl_."

She could feel their horrid red gaze watching her as she crawled away from them on all fours. Though she had long left the comforting light of the Lodge, it felt as though they were still ogling her from their corrupted sanctuary afar.

It wasn't until their taunts dissipated into the snowy night that Meg allowed herself to cry.

* * *

Evan turned to his companions, making a disgusted face as he watched all three gripping their own pounds of man-flesh. They were like dogs in heat, caged from the bitch whose scent was driving them _all_ wild. The Entity had forbidden them from taking her tonight, but She had allowed them to retrieve the journal from Meg by any means necessary and to begin opening her eyes to what awaited her in the future. Evan felt he had performed his job well.

The tingle in his brain assured him that he had.

_Well enough to earn a trial with Meg Thomas? _

His Mother Entity was silent about the matter, and Evan was forced to accept Her will.


	9. Chapter 5: Clinical Cynicism

Dawn never _really_ existed in the Realm. It was an illusion fabricated by the spidery bitch known to them only as 'the Entity'. Meg hated the Entity more today than she had when she was first brought her. First _trapped_ here. She pulled her pillow over her head to block out the tolling of the Wraith's bell, calling out in the distance:

_Ding, dong, ding, dong._

_Wake up, wake up!_

Meg ached all over, from her head to her toes. Every muscle screamed, every bone creaked, and there were bruises where bruises should never be. That wasn't even counting the amount of blood she had soaked into her bed from all the wounds she had endured the previous evening. Crawling on her hands and knees through the woods had been torturous in the snow and her palms were covered with scratches and splinters. Her arms looked like she had wrestled with an angry cat. She prayed all her wounds would heal a little more before her next trial.

To make matters worse, she had left her favorite purple utility flashlight behind in all the chaos of the previous night. A true loss in her eyes. Getting those puppies back would be difficult. The Entity didn't provide them too often, either, so the survivors horded them to themselves. She'd have to find one during her trials if she wanted to replace the one she lost.

As she stood up and stretched, she felt most of the pain subsiding. 'Ghost aches', they all called it. They didn't last long and were only faint twinges of what had transpired. She still ached, yes. But the wounds themselves were healing away and the rest of the pain in her body numbed. She was fit enough for another trial, if the Entity wished to call her into one.

Meg prayed that wouldn't be the case. That she wouldn't be summoned. After the night she had had, facing one of those creatures in a trial today seemed wickedly unbearable. She hoped the Entity would show her a little sympathy. Maybe?

When she arrived at the campfire, the dawn above her had turned to dusk, a common trick the Entity used to rouse the survivors from their beds. They arrived, groggy, but alert. Ready to have their names called out. Claudette was already there, and Meg walked up beside her. They grabbed each other's hands and squeezed in greeting.

"Heya," Claudette smiled.

"Hey yourself," Meg replied.

All the survivors around them stretched as they arrived, saying their 'good mornings' and exchanging hugs. Murmured conversations started up, and Claudette was no exception as she leaned in to whisper into Meg's ear, "I heard you and David got a little _intimate_ last night,"

The flair to her cheeks was all the proof Claudette needed to know that the rumors _had_ been true. She raised an eyebrow and rolled her eyes, "I thought you were saying he was such an asshole and you'd never go back to him again after what he did to you?"

Meg cringed, "Yeah, but… I don't know, I guess I've just had a lot on my mind lately. And he just happened to be there when I needed a… a _distraction_."

"Mhm," Claudette was not sold on her excuse, "well, I for one—"

Their conversation was cut short when the Campfire's heart crackled black and dimmed before bursting into an inferno. A signal that the time had come to gather round. The Entity was amongst them. The survivors all leaned in to listen, some with their arms crossed, others pretending not to care.

The voice it used was like the whispers of many people trying to make individual sounds to form coherent words. It was unnerving to hear it speak. But every day, it addressed them and every day they moved to obey her as she called out their names: "_Jake Park, Kate Denson, Adam Francis, William Overbeck_."

The four stepped forward to present their scavenged offerings – if they decided to bring any. The fire gobbled them up with hungry crackles. From where Meg was standing, she couldn't see who threw something in or even what they offered the Entity for their round. Not that she really cared. She could only tremble where she stood, dreading what was in store for her. The Entity next consumed the offering from whatever killer she had summoned for that trial. The fire burned a blinding red, before returning to its strange, black-hearted hue.

"_Gideon Meat Plant_."

And off they went, the four of them waving (or saluting in Bill's case) as they stepped into the fog, one-by-one. They disappeared into it, as they always did, the thickness of it swallowing them whole.

"_Ace Visconti, Dwight Fairfield, Quentin Smith, Jane Romero._"

Another round of survivors. Another round of offerings. This time, the Entity sent them all to Haddonfield.

"_David Tapp, Nea Karlsson, Ashley Williams, Laurie Strode_."

Meg trembled herself into a mess. Claudette looked over her with a concerned raise of her eyebrows. They were forbidden to speak during this part, and so they had all developed a way of speaking with their faces and hands, especially during their trials when sound was the killer's strongest sense. Silence was their shield.

Meg only shook her head at her friend.

The second to last group whooshed away, leaving only Claudette, Feng, David, Jeff, and her available for the final trial. Logs cracked in the mysterious fire as her voice called out for the final four survivors: "_Jeffrey Johansen, Claudette Morel, David King, Meg Thomas_."

Hearing the thing say her name gave Meg chills and she trembled as she stepped forward with the other three. Had she heard the creature purr her name? Meg felt sick. The Entity had purposefully left her name for last, the survivor was sure of it.

She watched Jeff put out his hand and drop a sachet of some sort into the fire, Claudette flipped in a coin, and David tossed in a dirty bottle which Meg could only assume was a reagent to thicken the mist. When it was Meg's turn to throw in an offering, her shaking hand tossed in a black salt statuette.

The Entity clicked through the flames at Meg's offering.

Then it was the killer's turn to offer something to it.

The dark-hearted flame flickered. _No offering._

Meg felt her stomach coil.

"_Lery's Memorial Institute._"

Meg's heart pounded in her ears as the location of their trial was announced. The memories of what happened there the previous night came flooding back. This map wasn't the killer's choosing?

It was now time for them to step into the fog. Her knees were trembling worse than if she had run ten miles. Who would the killer be? Would the Entity pair her with someone like Trapper or Legion, just to see her suffer? Meg prayed for mercy as the fog overwhelmed them.

When she next opened her eyes, they were at Lery's, the piercing screams of unknown test subjects replaying on the nearby television screens over and over again. Meg had tried to watch them once. _Once_.

It wasn't long before she and the other survivors rushed to the nearest generator to get to work.

They all knew what to do.

The only one amongst them who was newer to the process was Jeff, but the metalhead caught on quick. Meg was grateful that they could rely on him. The same couldn't be said of her, unfortunately. Not knowing who it was that hunted them rattled Meg so much that, by the third failed attempt to connect the wires to power the generator, David cast her a murderous look. Her skittishness would get them all killed.

"I'm sorry," she whispered in shame.

David hissed, "Get yer head on right, Meg,"

In an instant, there was static gathering in the air around them. Meg could taste the electricity as if a lightning storm was about to roll in. And storm it was. All four of them cried out as the metal of the generator became electrified.

There was only one killer that Meg knew of with a sick fascination for electricity.

The Doctor towered over them with a fist held high, charging his electro-convulsion for another wave. Meg, however, had long gone after the first spark had singed them. He would only get one scream from her that trial, that was all. The survivor was determined to live another night. To escape from the clutches of the Doctor. It was no Trapper or Legion, to Meg's relief. She would try to lead her friends to victory, if she could.

She disappeared to the other side of the building to work on a generator. One glinted down the hallway and Meg sprinted to it. Her fingers had only just skimmed the object when she heard Jeff cry out in pain somewhere, his voice echoing through the halls of the haunted place. It set Meg's anxiety through the roof.

The Trapper's words floated through her mind as she worked the generator with her nimble fingers: "_when you face us, know that we, Her servants, will be especially cruel with _you."

David's voice now added to the sounds of torment.

Sweat gathered on the back of her neck as Meg's generator roared to life.

Off in the distance, David screamed out in bloody terror as the Doctor came down on him. From where she crouched, she could actually see the Doctor. She could see him standing over David, staring, relaxed, in the direction of Meg's finished generator.

Chills ran down Meg's spine.

Another generator in the distance powered on, drawing the Doctor's attention to that instead of her.

_Only three more._

Meg bolted, already on the hunt for the next generator to work on. Somewhere behind her, David's scream of agony wailed out as the Doctor hooked him for the Entity. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end as guilt stopped her in her tracks. It was her fault that he had gotten caught in the first place. Meg resolved herself to creep her way back in the direction of the cry. A cautionary glance around the corner to make sure the killer was nowhere in sight before she ran in to make a save. Claudette was already there, however, and beat Meg to the hook by a few seconds.

Another generator powered in the distance, courtesy of Jeff, Meg assumed.

As Claudette unhooked David, Meg noticed her friend let out a gasp of pain. Meg suspected that the Doctor was running something fierce when glimpses of the back of Claudette's hand while they healed David revealed the ominous visage of a skull and blood oozed from the symbol. It was a sign that the killer had marked her for death due to her actions. It was an ability that some of the killers used on occasion. Every trial, every killer was different. The powers the Entity granted them all – both killers and survivors – were unique. The survivors had to be ever vigilant.

Heavy footsteps and the hammering of her heart told her that _he_ was closing in behind Meg, but they had to finish patching David up first. Claudette ran, understandably since she was still marked, but Meg committed to her task. She cinched the last binding to his head wound, helping to stop the bleeding, before turning to face the blinding red stain bearing down on her. The survivor threw out her arms to block the Doctor's approach, trying to give her teammate a running start and a fighting chance.

Her efforts were in vain as the Doctor brushed her aside with his punishment rod, sending Meg sprawling into one of the nearby rooms. He didn't take chase with her and instead went in the direction that Claudette had run, his hand raised to deliver his shock therapy to any unfortunate survivor that crossed his path.

Meg felt her head spin as she wobbled down the hallway to another section of the facility. She needed tofind a generator, fast. Her team was counting on it. Meg knew the Doctor would show them no mercy this trial, least of all her.

Off in the distance, she heard Claudette scream in terror, the Doctor finally catching her with one of his nasty shocks. It was only a matter of time before her screams of fear turned into cries of pain. Meg shuddered. What if _she_ had beaten Claudette to the hook?

When she found an untouched generator nestled in the library, the survivor girl gagged. Memories of the previous night came crawling back to her despite her best attempts to kick them away. Perhaps this one might be too much for her to work on for now. Her hesitation would likely cost them the trial, Meg thought with bitterness, especially as she heard Claudette scream out. The Doctor had taken the botanist down in a single smack of his weapon.

As Meg moved from the library to find another generator to work on, she thought she saw the Doctor in the corner of her eye. She knew it couldn't possibly be him when Claudette let out a scream of pain from across the facility. Her best friend was being skewered on a sacrificial hook.

On the other hand, however, Meg was safe – for now.

A generator popped off in the distance, leaving them with only one left to complete.

As she turned a corner, Meg bonked heads with David. He reached out to stabilize her as she placed a hand on her forehead, "Ow, sorry," she whispered.

He placed a finger on his lips as they heard something shuffling towards them. The pair ducked into a nearby unlit room, keeping their breathing low. The heartbeat grew in their ears and they heard another set of footsteps. The Doctor swung, Meg could hear the massive thing whiff through the air before it collided with something. Specifically, Jeff. He cried out in agony as he went down on the other side of the wall from where the two of them squatted. If Jeff was here, that meant that no one was helping Claudette.

Meg made a face at David but he only shook his head.

Then the floor where they crouched sparked to life. They both cried out in surprise and scrambled to escape. The Doctor, coming around the corner from where he downed Jeff, swung for David first, giving his back a hearty 'thud' with the weapon. The rugby player cried out as a spray of blood misted the air, limping away as the Doctor gave chase.

This was Meg's chance to help Claudette.

She stumbled through the halls to where her friend hung from a hook, hoping to get there before the Entity intervened. Every step Meg took, she left behind a small pool of blood. The more they ran, the more they left a trail to be followed. Footprints in snow or mud, dirt up a staircase, grass flattened… the killers all used these to track them down. Meg was leaving a lot of trail to track, she was sure of it, but she didn't care. All she could think about was saving her teammate, her friend, from the horrible meat hook she was hanging from. Everything in Meg's body ached as she willed herself to go faster, to get there before the Entity did.

The runner turned a corner and could see Claudette hanging there.

"M-Meg," her friend called out hoarsely.

_With time to spare_, Meg thought with relief.

The pain in her shoulder where the Doctor had struck her stung as Meg hobbled down the hall as fast as she could, "I-I'm coming, just h-hold on," she whispered between pants.

The Entity only interfered when the survivor had been on the hook for too long, forcing them to struggle for their survival. Seeing how badly they wanted to live through another night. Despite the Entity's twistedness, it believed in fairness and always granted survivors the same amount of time on the hooks before interfering.

But as she approached the hook, the Entity's insectoid limbs branched from above Claudette, coming down on her with hungry clicks. Claudette's scream of surprise echoed down the hallway and into Meg's ears.

"What?!" Claudette screamed out as her hands grabbed the first branch that threatened to impale her, "_There was still time_!"

Meg felt terror seize her and she hesitated at the base of the hook. Had the Entity… arrived _early_… _on purpose_? Hands trembled as she reached up and pulled Claudette off, warding away the Entity's fingers. The mark of the killer burned into Meg's hands and she drew them into her chest as blood spurted out.

They were both panting as Meg moved to bind her friend's wounds. They only had a limited amount of time before the hunter returned to strike down his prey. After so many trials, Meg had developed a passive instinct that told her when the killer was around. Today that skill was even more prominent. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end even as Claudette gasped, "Meg!"

She had no time to react as stars danced across her eyes. The next thing she knew, Meg was face-down on the ground, her vision swimming and head throbbing. Claudette was screaming in terror somewhere down the hall, and the Doctor was hot on her trail, his footsteps thundering in Meg's concussed head. Her friend's scream and flopping body made Meg cringe, "N-no!"

The Doctor stomped into the room a second later, Claudette struggling on his shoulder. His bulging eyes looked over Meg as she gritted her teeth against the pain of her head injury. He kicked her onto her back, making her cry out, "_Ack, _s-stop!"

He paid her no mind as he made his way to the nearest hook.

"Claudette! No!"

That terrifying, forced, stretched smile of the Doctor was beaming down on her now. Acknowledging her and drinking in her desperate pleas. Then he turned to the hook and threw the still fighting Claudette onto it.

"_No_!"

But it was too late for her friend. The Entity consumed Claudette as soon as she was sacrificed, raising her corpse up to the Otherside. Her body lifted away into the Entity's embrace above Meg. Metal clanked to the linoleum floor, the only evidence that remained of her friend, fallen and disabled right next to Meg's hands. Claudette would stumble in from the fog tomorrow, with a fresh body and newfound strength, but that didn't make Meg feel confident about her current trial. The only thing she could hope for was that David had managed to get Jeff up. If he had, there was still a chance for them. But with Claudette gone, it was going to be a hard-fought escape.

It was likely they might not make it.

The Doctor loomed over her and Meg scowled, "Hook me, then."

He pressed a hard boot square into her chest as he shook his head, making a distinct clicking sound with his tongue as he did. Air rushed from her lungs and Meg felt the bones in her chest threaten to crack before he relented. His icy eyes glossed over her. In an instant, the Doctor was gone, leaving her lying there dazed and wondering if she had imagined the whole thing.


	10. Chapter 5 NSFW Excerpt

He pressed a hard boot square into her chest as he shook his head, making a distinct clicking sound with his tongue as he did. Air rushed from her lungs and Meg felt the bones in her chest threaten to crack before he relented. His icy eyes glossed over her.

The Doctor knelt between her legs, forcing her to straddle him. Though her head still reeled from the knock over it, there was enough fight left in Meg for her to let out a defensive hiss as she tried to scramble backwards. The Doctor grabbed the front of her pants and yanked her back down onto him, intentionally slamming her pubic bone against his thigh.

Meg let out a weak moan.

He chuckled darkly at the sound, his hand moving down her body. It fumbled under her shirt. The survivor tried to push away his encroaching hand, "No, don't!" but he sent bitter charges of electricity through her each time she resisted. Muscles stiffened. Fingers refused to cooperate. Meg whimpered as the Doctor pressed his leg harder into her crotch. When he reached for her tit this time, the survivor bit her lip as the Doctor's electric hand touched the flesh.

As soon as their skin made contact, Meg squirmed to get away, but the Doctor sent her reeling with another pulse of mild electricity. Darkness threatened the edges of her vision. When she regained her senses, she watched him in a dazed stupor as he played with her, his eyes drinking in everything she did. Her fingers dug into his forearm as he kneaded her breast – a pitiful attempt to hold him at bay. The air caught in her throat as he pinched her nipple. Another shock. The world spun and Meg was at the Doctor's mercy. A focused charge over the sensitive bundle of flesh had the survivor yelping and whimpering.

Herman drank in the sounds she made, but he knew he would have to contain himself. There was an order to obey, and he would serve dutifully. The Doctor was happy to do so. But he would be a fool if he didn't help himself to at least a little taste.

He was curious, in truth. _What was all the _fuss_ about Meg Thomas?_ He longed to find out. Curiosity nagged at him to continue, though he knew he was risking the trial by spending his precious time here. Still, how could he think of that when the noises she made were just so intoxicating?

It wasn't long before she was writhing over his thigh, still trying to free herself from his electric affections. Sweat beaded on her skin as he moved to her other breast. It perked as soon as he arrived. He took great delight in knowing that her body responded to him so _positively_. Herman laughed to himself at his own joke as he flicked her nipple with a charged finger and watched the survivor's eyes roll into her head for a split second. Another little chuckle escaped him.

Herman couldn't help it. He was finally understanding the appeal of her.

It was enjoyable to watch the proud, arrogant Meg Thomas turned into a dry-humping, sweaty mess. He would take great pleasure from the rare occasion. Most times, she infuriated him with her antics. Most times, Herman wanted nothing to do with her during their trials together. Most times, she was the first to die in the trials against him, her speed a punishment to Herman. Now, he would enjoy every second of his time tormenting her body.

Every detail was privy to him. The twitch in her eyebrow, the stiffening of her body, the rage seething in her eyes. The color on her face was astounding. A fine, ripe red. Meg's attempts to stifle her sounds, to hold him at bay… Herman drank it all in. Her embarrassment was adorable - they'd have to fix that.

In time.

He was also now beginning to see why Joey was so fascinated with her.

Herman raised an eyebrow as he decided to change gears, removing his mouthpiece for his little "experiment". He was curious: how keen was she of Joey?

Her crotch ached with desire, and it disgusted her to feel it. Meg was loath to even look the Doctor in the eyes as he gave her his _personal_ attention. Turning her head did little to hide the flush across her cheeks or the panting heaves of her chest. It only made Meg feel worse about her current situation. She felt embarrassed, violated.

How many others had experienced this before her? And what of her friends? Did they get this… _treatment_ often? Meg tried not to think on the questions too hard, feeling a headache coming on from all the electricity.

Meg leaned her head back as the Doctor retracted his hand from her shirt only to place it next on her face. His hand burned her. The heat was so intense, it brought tears to her eyes and she had to blink them back. It wasn't even the electricity anymore, Meg was sure of it. This felt different than that.

He took away his hand to slap it back onto her cheek. It was a tame motion, but it still stung her face and Meg let out a snarl that had even the Doctor puzzled. Hatred boiled in her eyes. She hoped he knew just how much she despised him and the other killers.

The man raised an eyebrow at her response as he tittered with satisfaction and nodded in approval. His thumb traced the outline of Meg's bottom lip, his hand still resting on her face where he had slapped it.

All she did was blink her eyes. Then, standing above her was no longer the Doctor, but Legion – Joe. Meg reeled and gasped, "_No!_"

Joe knelt over her now, his fingers tracing her cheek bone as he caressed the side of her face. His mask's skull taunted her with its painted smile, "What's the matter, Meg?" the Legion tilted his head, "You look as if you've seen a ghost."

"You… it can't be…" Meg breathed, flushed and confused as all hell, "No, this… this has to be a… an illusion."

Joe leaned forward and nipped at her ear, "Oh? You think so, eh? Meg Thomas has it _all _figured out, does she?" The survivor cringed her shoulder up into her ear and shrank away, but he pressed his weight down on her to keep her from going too far, "We're not finished with you yet."

Flashes of her previous night with the Legion distracted her as she fumbled to grab hold of his hoodie once again. To fend him off. Try as she might, however, Meg couldn't get away. She gasped for air, oxygen in short supply. Joe's ragged breathing stayed right in her ear as she tried to wriggle free. It was hot against her skin, hotter than fire, and when he bent down to kiss her neck through his mask, he was like the sun itself.

"Can you feel that, Meg?" he asked in a breathy whisper. She could feel his lips against her throat through the material as he spoke, "Can you feel that _heat_? That's the Entity's power coursing through us." Even through his gloves, his fingers left her face tingling. It was a stark contrast to when they had all felt dead and cold to her. Like being picked up by ugly ice sculptures.

She heard him snicker, "Imagine how it'll feel when we finally stick our _dick_ inside you…" Meg became both disgusted and excited at his words, a terrible and confusing mindset to be in. She battled the desire coursing through her with the need to vomit. Careening between both extremes, Meg didn't know which to feel more.

_Interesting_, Herman watched the swirls of emotions dance through Meg like a kaleidoscope shifting. Her response to seeing Joe was a fascinating thing. And the way she squirmed against him… Herman was impressed that the newer killer had gotten under the survivor's skin so well. The confusing torrent of emotions from her was delectable. Herman would be lying if he said he weren't a little jealous of Meg's reaction to Joe.

He reached down and patted her crotch. Meg bit back a moan, turning her head away from him once more. The area was humid with sweat and desire. Herman chuckled, rubbing her up and down at a steady pace, "Oh Meg, you might try to hide it from everyone, you might try to deny it to yourself, but _we_ know the truth," another little pat, "you like the idea of getting fucked by one of us, don't you?"

Meg sputtered, "N-no!"

"Hm, why is it that we don't believe you?" He ran his fingers hungrily over her sensitive mound. Through the fabric, her body told him the truth and, when the survivor let out a long moan, it sent shivers through Herman.

"That's what we thought." He snickered, no longer speaking in the Legion's voice to keep up the illusion, "You have quite the obedience problem, Ms. Thomas. We all can't wait to help remedy that."

In an instant, the Doctor was gone, leaving her lying there dazed and wondering if she had imagined the whole thing.


End file.
